Three Wishes
by I Tried To Be Witty
Summary: "If you could have three wishes, what would they be?"   I feigned thought, although I knew exactly what I would wish for. Multi-Chapter. SLASH.
1. Chapter 1: Call Him John

Hi everyone! I understand I haven't updated anything in a long time and for that I'm sorry. But this little plotbunny held me hostage and made me write it. So enjoy, my pretties!

**Warning: **Slash, meaning sexual relations between men.

**Disclaimer:** I've neglected to do these before, but really, if I owned this, Watson and Holmes would be together and Mrs. Hudson would keep their little secret.

"If you could have three wishes, what would they be?" Watson questioned me, eyes lit by the fire in front of us.

I feigned thought, although I knew exactly what I would wish for.

I would wish I could call him John. I can just picture myself saying, "How was your rounds today, John?" or, if I was lucky enough, "I love you, John,"

I imagine calling out his name while making love, and being as loud as I wanted, without the neighbors reporting us to the police.

I would be able to call him by given name every day, filled with more kindness than I've ever shown anyone before. I would name a song after him, play it for him.

And, instead of applause, I would receive a kiss, the taste of his pipe dripping onto my tongue.

I would wish to take him in my arms and steal his pain away. Even if it's just a little pain, like his injured leg, or the hurt of a heart torn to shreds. I would dare to hold him, while tears spill down his face and sobs wrack his body.

"Everything will be alright, John," I would whisper. "I'll make it alright; you'll see,"

And then, he would twist his face upward, kiss me on the cheek and say,

"You know I love you, right, Sherlock?"

And my answer would always be: "Of course, love. You need not cry,"

I would kiss his tears away, before lifting him into my arms and leading him to the bedroom we shared, leaving sleep to take us.

I would wish to live with him the rest of my life. Here, in this house, was where we would stay. Gray hairs would peck at our hair, our skin would wither, and age would creep up on us. But yet, I would still love him madly. I would still kiss him passionately, hold him tightly, and still find him absurdly handsome.

"Sherlock, what do you think of me?" He would ask.

"What do you mean, love?"

"Do you still find me, well, attractive?"

"How could I not? John, I love you; I'll always find you attractive," My arms would wind around his waist. "Now, how about some breakfast?"

"Well, Holmes, what would you wish for?" Watson interrupts my thoughts, sweet voice laced delicately with concern.

"I would wish for a new chemistry set, some money, and one I would save for a rainy day, when my life has no luck." I lie, heart breaking with each tiny word. "What would you wish for, old fellow?"

He doesn't hesitate. "A wife, some kids, and a house,"

The words stepped on my crumbled heart.

But what hurt worse was the smile he had when he said them.

And that was when it hit me.

I would never call him John; only Watson and "Old fellow". I would never get to take his hurt away. He would always go to someone else; a nice, kind woman would be the one to take it all away. I wouldn't get the chance to grow old with him, reassure him that I loved him even though his hair was turning grey and his looks were withering.

But it would never be me.

Tears stung at my eyes, blurring my vision.

"Are you sure you're not sick, Old boy? You look quite pale," Watson inquired, turning to look at me closer.

"I'm quite alright, Watson; Just a head cold, that's all." I answered.

"You should head up to bed. I'll send Mrs. Hudson up with some tea later,"

And with that, I went up the stairs to my bedroom, small traitor tears running down my face.

As soon as I closed the door to my room, I let the tears fall, sobs wracking my body.

I didn't bother to put on my dressing gown before crawling into bed and waiting.

Waiting for the misery to end with the sleep that would come.


	2. Chapter 2: I Suppose

"If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?" I asked Holmes, who sat next to me, dark eyes boring into the fireplace ahead.

I quietly awaited his answer, pondering my own three wishes.

_Perhaps a wife,_ I wondered. My thoughts automatically turned to Miss Moorstan. Her long, silky blond hair, her lovely oceanic eyes, the demure curves of her body.

But I found myself thinking differently.

Dark eyes, broad shoulders, and strong arms. A deep voice, sharp jaw, and perhaps even a starch white shirt and an undone tie.

_He would kiss me along my neck, trailing down my chest. _

"_Holmes," I would whimper._

"_John," He would rise up. "I can't. I have a case; perhaps you would join me?"_

"_Brilliant work, old man," I would grumble back. "Do __**this**__ to me and then leave me hanging,"_

"_I'm sorry, love. You know I have to attend to this first before I can deal with…__**distractions**__," _

"_I know. But I won't leave you to deal with this by yourself. Someone has to take care of you,"_

_He would smirk. "After all, you __**are**__ a doctor,"_

_I would just fallow him, picking up my cane and hat._

My brow furrowed. _I should not be thinking like this; it's against the law._

_I promised myself I'd stop thinking this way! Especially about my roommate. _

But yet, I could not force myself to stop. _I suppose I would wish for him. Under respectable circumstances, not as criminals. _

The thought made a smile tug at my lip. _What a dream that would be, not having to worry about what others would think of us. _

_We'd be able to go and have dinner, just the two of us, without worrying that the police will see through our façade. _

_We could kiss in public and no one could say a damn word about it._

_What a dream._

_I suppose I could wish for kids, but what I would honestly wish for is a day alone with him. No interruptions, no cases to be had, no medical emergencies, just the two of us. _

_A dance, a kiss, maybe an "I love you"._

The smile gradually grew wider, happiness bubbling in my chest.

For a minute, I stole a glance at Holmes.

I could see his lips tugging upward, but almost like he hadn't had enough practice to actually smile. And, oddly enough, I found endearing.

His eyes were filled with bliss, such happiness that I had never seen on his face before.

_What is he thinking about?_ I wondered. _A case? Maybe finding someone to love?_

I didn't have to wait much longer. "Well, Holmes, what would you wish for?"

"I would wish for a new chemistry set, some money and one I would save for a rainy day, when my life has no luck." Holmes answered around his pipe. "What would you wish for, Old fellow?"

"A wife, some kids, and a house," I replied, putting on a small smile, for show.

I peeked at him again. "Are you sure you're not sick, Old boy? You look quite pale,"

Quite pale was an understatement. In truth, he looked almost ghostly. His dark eyes had lost any life in them.

"I'm quite alright, Watson. Just a head cold, that's all," He answered, although I could tell that it was not just a head cold.

"You should head up to bed," I told him, trying my hardest not to show my unhappiness.

He nodded, distantly.

"I'll send Mrs. Hudson up with some tea later,"

So, Holmes got up and made his way up the stairs.

But I was trying my hardest to keep any tears from falling, lest Mrs. Hudson come in and see me.

_I suppose I shouldn't be too disappointed. _I said to myself. _After all, I'm probably no better than a criminal._

I put out my pipe before heading up to bed myself. But, before I entered my room, I heard something. Something that sounded quite like sobbing.

I silently opened the door, being careful not to creak it.

There was Holmes, lying on the bed, tears running down his face.

I could see he hadn't bothered to shave or undress for that matter. I couldn't help but want to go over, and kiss the tears from his eyes, reassure him that I loved him.

But I didn't. Instead, I went downstairs to make tea.

I couldn't just let him despair, now can I?

It was late when I wrote this, so be nice.

Also huge thanks to **Curreeous** for her kind review! Much appreciated.

Okay, I realize this A/N is a bit late, but I do appreciate feedback. Tell me what's historically accurate and what's not, tell me what you like and what you don't.

But I would like to know:

Would you lovely readers like a happy ending or an angsty one?

R/R!


	3. Chapter 3: It Hurts

_Hello, My pretties! Sorry It's taken me so long to get this out. Lots of writers block. But here is a long chapter to make up for it! Reviews are appreciated._

_And ideas for the next chapter! What do you want to happen?_

When I awoke that morning, I was greeted by the soft scent of tea and human presence.

Watson was asleep in the chair next to me, his dirty blond hair shimmering in the sun that flooded through the window. His suit was still on, although a bit wrinkled. There were dark circles under his beautiful eyes, which told me he'd been up late. A tea tray, with cups filled with tea and a pot, lay forgotten on the table beside him.

_He wanted to stay with me, wanted to make sure I wasn't too sick,_ My brain deduced.

The thought made me smile softly, gazing at his sleeping form.

For a while, it was like floating on a cloud. The way he might have worried, the way he made tea in case I woke up, even the way he stayed the night on a chair, made me feel as though I were doused in a thousand kisses. My mind gradually began to drift from reality, caressing the beauty of fantasy.

"_Sherlock? Are you awake, love?" He would ask quietly._

"_Yes, I'm awake," I would sit up slightly. "How long have you been up?"_

"_A few minutes,"_

"_Why didn't you wake me? I could have at least talked with you a while,"_

"_I couldn't; I must confess, you look gorgeous asleep,"_

_And that's when I would realize that he was laying in bed next to me, arm draped lightly over my chest in a kind of half hug._

The idea of this sent chills running up and down my spine. Everything felt soft and gentle, like a warm fire on a cold winter's night. The world was hazy fuzz, except for Watson.

If I couldn't smell the tobacco from Watson's suit, I would have sworn it was a dream.

And slowly, his chocolate eyes opened.

"Holmes?" Watson pushed himself upright. "Why are you still in your suit?"

"It seems I was too tired to put on my nightclothes last night,"

"And how are you feeling now?"

"Much better. Perhaps it was a twenty four hour bug?"

"Perhaps," He answered wearily.

"You shan't have stayed the night in a chair. You could have just gone to your own rooms,"

"You're probably right. I don't want to be too tired; Tonight is my dinner with Miss Moorstan,"

The blood that once ran hot through my body froze and the air seemed to thicken, as though a wall was driven between Watson and me. Slowly, a knife drove through my chest, ramming my heart into the bed frame behind me. A dark shiver ran through my body, and the world was in that one sentence shattered.

"I see," Was the only thing I could choke out.

Watson looked at me, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Are you alright, Holmes?"

_No. Not as long as you're with her._

_No. It hurts to see you leave. It hurts see you give that smile away._

_No. You've shattered me over and over but still I love you._

"Of course, I am, Watson," I pretend to busy myself with putting on a new shirt.

"You don't look very well. Perhaps you should stay the day in bed?"

"You and I both know that I won't agree to that," I almost put on a pair of trousers before Watson's voice came, "Holmes, those are my trousers. Ones that you stole from me."

"I'm sorry, old boy, but I'll have to steal them again,"

_Maybe I'll get out of it?_

Watson pressed his hand to my forehead. "Warm,"

"That's probably just because it's warm in here. How about we open a window?"

_He's onto me…_

"Your face is flushed and, let's see, your pulse isn't exactly steady. I recommend a day in bed; before this gets any worse. Please, Holmes, if not for your sake, then mine?"

_Damn, I'll always fall for that line,_ "Please, Watson, just listen to me. I'm quite alright…"

"The last time you said that you collapsed in the middle of a case," Watson sighed. "Please Holmes, believe me, you'll feel a lot better after a day in bed,"

"No, I won't," I answered, more to myself than him. "I'm just not that strong,"

There was a long silence. "I know I'm not so strong as to feel better after a day in bed. It doesn't work that way. I won't feel better, because it hurts inside, and it's so cold. How can such a beautiful thing break you so, with just a swift twist of fate? It hurts to breathe, John. I don't know if I can do this anymore," I rambled.

"What can break you, Holmes? What doesn't work that way? What can't you do? Why did you call me John? I need answers to help you,"

Surprise hit me in the gut. _Watson's still here?_

With that, I stormed out of the room, tears running down my cheeks.

_I can't do this anymore, John. I just can't. _

_It hurts to live._

_Bring on the reviews! Bring on the ideas! Please, if not for your sake, then for mine?_


	4. Chapter 4: The Inevitable

_**Thank Goodness I got this out! I've been having tons of writer's block, and school has made me super busy. I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting.**_

_**Now, I think I'll strike a deal with you lovely people! I get that it's not my place, but reviews really keep me going. They're the fuel to my car, the Earphones to my MP3, and the Watson to my Holmes. So, could we please have some lovely reviews to go with the lovely readers?**_

_**Thanks a Million,**_

_**Persephone**_

I watched, puzzled as Holmes left the room. I could have sworn I heard my heart shatter, slowly, but surely beating.

_**Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…**_

_I've never seen him like this. I've always seen the calm, collected detective. Sure, he's had bouts of depression. He established it right at the beginning. But why wait to show me this side? Why now?_

The questions rattled my brain, as I sat down on the bed. _Why wait, unless it was a secret?_

Sure, he'd kept secrets from me all the time. On every case we'd ever handled, he'd give me instructions without giving me a reason. For example, the Scandal in Bohemia. He gave me a list of instructions and told me to fallow them, but eventually he told me _why_ he'd given them.

But this secret wasn't like that. It seemed to me something he didn't want me to know, and had no intention of telling unless he was held at gunpoint.

_Certainly, not a position I want to be in._

"Holmes!" I called to the dark figure racing down the rustic hall. "Holmes! Please, just talk to me!"

I stormed down toward him, which caused him to stand still.

"Please, Watson, can't you understand that what I need is some time to myself?" He urged, raising his hand to his forehead, like he did when he had a migraine. But I knew he was hiding the tears that ran down his face.

"If not for your sake, then for mine?"

"Dammit," He cursed. "I always fall for that line,"

"Good, then I'll have some advantage over your genius. Now, please just talk to me,"

"But I am talking to right now," He raised a dark eyebrow.

"But you're not telling me anything! Not anything that can explain what happened back there," I was desperate by now, to get him to tell me what happened.

_And to be honest, when he cries, it kills me._

"Fine; I'll tell you something and you aren't going to like it, because you're not like me. And then, you'll go crawling to the police. So, here is your answer," And before I could process much else, he leaned in and close the space between us.

There was no sharp spark or strike of lightning. It was just soft, reminding of the many fires we had shared, and I could taste the tender love dripping onto my tongue. Slow uncertainty tainted it, making the sweetness of it bitter, like coffee that had been left cold. _There's only one way to cure that, _

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. A smile pressed onto my lips, as Holmes placed his hands on my waist.

Reluctantly, we broke apart, still clutching onto each other for dear life.

I bit my lip nervously, not knowing quite what to say after that.

"Watson, what did you really wish for?" Holmes questioned. I suppose after that display it was quite obvious that I didn't really wish for a wife and children.

"Promise not to laugh?" I asked, suddenly feeling very shy, like a child getting scolded at school.

"I promise,"

"I… well, I wanted to… I thought it would have been quite obvious that I don't want a wife," I answered, at a loss for words.

"No more evading the question. I've already promised I won't laugh,"

I sighed. _I'll never be able to live it down,_

"I wished for… well, nothing now. It's come true, in a way,"

I felt a blush spread across my cheeks like butter onto bread, only plenty more visible and I could tell that Sherlock probably thought me an insufferable fool for doing so.

But when I looked up, he wasn't giving me one of those condescending looks he gives to Lestrade and any of the other detectives. It was just one of those small, knowing smiles he wears sometimes, whenever he's got a new case or even sometimes when he looks over at me from his armchair with the clay pipe in his hand.

"You may be a fool, Dear Watson- well, I suppose I should call you John now-, but you are _my _fool," Sherlock Holmes removed a hand from my waist and brushed it across my cheek. "And I hope you always will be,"

I raised an eyebrow, giving Holmes my usual 'are you in over your head?" look.

"I would be lost without my Boswell," He stated matter-of-factly.

I chuckled a bit. _He's said that so many times, but only now it seems more… natural,_

"So, enlighten me, Holmes; what did you wish for?"

This time it was his turn to blush. Laughter swelled in my chest as his face turned into a cherry.

Suddenly, his face went back into his usual mask. "I believe, that is for me to know and for you to find out,"

I burst out in a hearty laughter. "I only just got one secret out of you; I beg of you, don't give me another! Please, just tell me,"

Sherlock grinned another one of his enrapturing smiles. "Why, what would be the fun in that?"

And that was when I knew that one way or another, we would work this out.

It was inevitable.


End file.
